On Blursings....

I think a lot about blursings. For some, they are called 'mixed blessings'. But I just like to mix the words blessing and curses. I can actually think of a lot of them, and I've really been pondering them lately.

In a culture where every skin-care product has bleach or some whitening agent, where everyone is a yummy, creamy-coffee color, and where the lighter your skin is, the more beautiful you are, you'd think I'd have it made with my pasty little self. Even when Filipinos buy bread, they think whiter is better. Yet it's my blursing for sure.

Certainly it is nice to show up at the bank without ID because your wallet was stolen, and the cashier will still cash your check because you are white. It is nice that the security guards at the mall don't search your bag as much, or that everyone on the Jeepney scoots just a little more for you. And it does make a girl feel special when everyone smiles at her and tells her she's beautiful. The implied sense of trust is useful for sure!


Conversely there are times when the stares drill through you and you wish not to feel like a zoo animal. There are times when you want to be anonymous, and when you'd rather NOT be a 'rich American'. Sometimes you just want to be treated like everyone else and you wish they wouldn't inconvenience themselves for you. There are the times you just want to BELONG, and you know that no matter how well you speak the language, or how much acculturation you experience, you will always be white.


There is the blursing of my height too. At times, I just wish I could climb into a jeepney and sit up straight instead of assuming the slight incline of head, which in a church setting would be associated with prayer. Sometimes I would like to NOT stand a head or more taller than every person in my church. And other times, I can reach things that would require a small ladder for a Filipino to retrieve. I can spot people in the crowd, and I can walk home at night without feeling intimidated.

Facebook blurses me. It seems that I am never too far behind on happenings in the lives of friends and loved ones. The chat feature allows  me to connect with tons of people I love. And the tantalizing hope that someone or something interesting will be on Facebook often lures me away from far more profitable ways of dispensing my time. Pictures sometimes make me miss people desperately, and sad news must be dealt with alone, not absorbed with the aid of a loving friend.


Food is another big one. It is wonderful to try new flavors, parts of various creatures you never before imagined ingesting, and rice Rice RICE!!! It is excellent to be able to order rice in a small, burger-sized patty from the local fast food place. And yet, sometimes I really miss cheese. Pizza just isn't the same without it! Every once in a while, I want something peppermint, or a familiar salad dressing. And sometimes a bowl of cereal, or custard, or good bacon would be a welcome treat.



Finally there is the blursing of singleness. Yes, I just went there. I have been so thankful that I do not have a husband or children during this phase of my life, because I see how difficult it would be to balance out a family and the rigorous schedule of my current life. I am glad that I can run off and pray for people in the local hospital, or stay out late studying and never think of tucking my kiddos into bed. I do not have to watch loved ones struggle to assimilate to strange language and customs. Yet other times, I feel lonely, and even un-supported. I crave  a  relationship with someone who is sharing my experiences and goals, and who is with me for the long-haul. I wish my current marital status was NOT considered a commodity, and that I didn't have to make all my decisions alone. And almost every time I hold a precious new life in my hands, I ask God if He will someday bless me with my own.

Over time, however, I've come to believe that blursings are extremely valuable. They open my eyes to the goodness of God in ways I had not previously experienced. At the same time, they really challenge me to trust His hand of love when things are not going in a way I understand. They allow me to choose thankfulness over a complaining heart, and to feel the sorrows and frustrations of others around me, because I have experience with my own. They challenge my heart to seek God and His kingdom more, and to let the things of this earth grow dim. So on that note...

May God richly blurse you all!

A Makeover....

Her eyeliner was overstated, and the lipstick was just too pink. The foundation she had so liberally applied made her look washed out, fake, and colorless. Pink circles of blush stood out in stark contrast to the even coloring of her foundation. Her lashes were clumpy and thick with the cheap mascara that had been so liberally applied. Bright blue powder arched over her eyes, nearly up to her eyebrows. The beautiful little girl looked strange and cheap instead of glamorous and gorgeous. Her natural beauty was inelegantly distorted by the makeup she had chosen. Instead of enhancing her comeliness, the makeup destroyed it.

I wonder if the Gospel needs a makeover

As I have been reading through The Mission of God’s People, I am struck by the challenge of how we represent the gospel. We as Christians are like makeup for the truth of the Good News. Like makeup, we can enhance the existing beauty of God’s truth and love. We can highlight the subtle features of incomprehensible grace. We can draw out the pieces of mercy that people do not notice. Or we can destroy and distort that beauty. We can use fake words to cover our own insufficiencies, and bright colors which only serve to draw attention to ourselves. We can make the gospel appear hideous and cheap, in contrast to the genuine and valuable treasure that it is.

I contemplate whether the color of my speech has well adorned the lips of the gospel. Have I fought so hard to conceal my own blemishes that I fail to step aside, and let the perfection of Christ’s finished work be seen?   Have I become those misapplied circles of pink on the cheeks when I’ve distorted the gentle blush of the truth with my own perspective? When others search my eyes, do they see genuine compassion and mercy, or do they see a flashy attempt to draw attention to myself?

And so I wonder…

Do I look good on the gospel?

On Those Big, Brown Eyes...

 She looked up at me, with those big brown eyes. But her eyes were not bright and happy, as a 1-and-a-half-year-old's should be. They were big.... too big. Her head was too. It seemed wobbly and ill-proportioned on top of that tiny, wasted body. She cried, rather than eating. Her nearly bald head stood out in a place where newborns have more hair than your grand-daddy's toupee. 6 kilos, up from 4.5. The healthy 4-month-old outweighed her. She could barely even sit up, much less toddle around as babies her age should. I would never have known she was almost 2 years old. Her emaciated mother held her, trying to comfort her, trying to feed her. But the poor dear didn't even seem to know how to eat. She hadn't had much practice in her short life, it seems.

I had seen hunger in the eyes of a child before... but never like this. This kind of hunger kills. It's impossible to understand from pictures and vivid descriptions, and it's impossible to imagine. It's impossible to think of a child dying from hunger when food is everywhere.... if you can afford it. Suddenly, the words of Jesus really make more sense. His call to feed the hungry. Full bellies give ears to empty souls. An empty belly is a deaf heart. And compassion is the heartbeat of our Father God.


I met this dear girl and others like her at a church where I go to offer prenatal care to women who cannot afford it. A church that is taking literally the commands of Jesus to "give a cold cup of water in His name". Here is a place where starving children can find a healthy meal 4 days a week. A haven where their mothers are taught to cook nourishing meals with inexpensive ingredients. A place where the children are taught about God, and shown His mercy. These people live in a little community that grows right out of the ocean.... their source of sustenance. Fathers who dive for pearls and catch fish to support their families. They are the Badjao, the sea gypsies.

 You can tell them by their beautiful high cheekbones and loud, mix-matched clothing. By the separate language they speak, and the pearls they sell. You can tell when the 33 year old mother is having her 9th child, but only 3 are still alive. Sometimes by the loud voices they use because their eardrums are all burst from diving for pearls. These are the poorest of the poor. The down and out. Rejected by their own people; by some because of the language and culture difference, and by the others because of religious differences. Here are "The least of these my brethren". I can feel God's heart calling to them every time I see them. And my heart cries after His...
...to offer the acceptance of a Savior, who was rejected for them.

Happy 2020!

 Yeah, here in the Philippines, we’re ahead of all you stateside people. So….. happy 2020! And happy 2013. Because the new year is 2013…

And hindsight is 2020.

It is hard to believe that one year ago I was praying about three different missions opportunities… and this one was the third on my list. Yet I see God’s hand of direction in the process that has brought me here. This is the fulfillment of so many prayers and so many dreams. 

In my head, this would've looked different. I never would've moved to a big city, never to Asia, and never alone. Yet God knew. I love it here so much. I love the culture that is loud and colorful, bright and affectionate. I love the mothers and babies and pregnancies all around me. I love the food, rice every day and ginger and garlic. I love my co-workers with whom I serve on a daily basis. So much goodness in one place!

December 31^st  brought me this page in my Bible:

A year’s worth of reading, writing my thoughts in the margins. Sometimes my heart had many things to say, and my pages looked like this.

I learned so much, and found my mind so engaged as I read with pen in hand, no journal or other books to juggle. It was a journey through my faith, and God showed me new things about Himself, and His ways. Other times my heart was far more silent, and my pages looked like this.

But looking back on the journey God has brought me on this last year, I see over and over again, His hand guiding me, His Spirit leading me, and His presence near me. I feel sustained even when I could feel drained. He is such a good God, and I’m so thankful to be One of His!

May God be glorified in this new year, in and through my life.